


Nightmares

by eriev



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Ficlet, Hurt/Comfort, POV Second Person, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 02:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11704521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eriev/pseuds/eriev
Summary: Hermione has a nightmare, and Ron comforts her.





	Nightmares

_ A dark figure towers over you, then kneels down, her face so close to yours that you can feel hot breath on your cheeks, a contrast to the cool air of the mansion.  Gooseflesh spreads on your neck, your forearms.  Her long tendrils of black hair are snakes, suffocating you as you open your mouth  - to cry out or spit in her face - you don’t know which would give her more satisfaction.  Her dark, heavily lidded eyes are icy coals burning with hatred and malignant joy.  cold and turned upward at you in an expression of malignant joy.  Spit sprays from her dark red lips as she snarls at you and you feel your entire being tremble in fear, even though you try to stay strong.   _

–  _ You won’t give in; doing so would mean certain death and agony for you and all those you care about.  Your heart beats a steadily increasing rhythm of  _ HarryRon HarryRon,  _ and you have to help them, to have the chance to laugh with them, sitting by the Lake like Hogwarts isn’t a place you’re banned from  _ –

_ Those lips stretch over yellowing teeth and her breath smells like decay with the faintest hint of blood.  Perhaps worst of all are the spindly fingers on your  arm, long nails digging into your skin harder as she asks you questions you refuse to answer.  She asks you over and over and you muffle your cries until the dam breaks and they out as her nails almost break skin and she touches her wand to your arm and pain sears your flesh as skin splits open -  _

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing.  You’re panting as you clutch your chest, unable to stop the tears that spill like a leaky faucet.  You’re gasping and your eyes are red as your fiancé wakes up next to you, casting a concerned look in your direction.  “Herm – Hermione?” he asks sleepily, becoming more alert as he notices your distress.

A new sob courses through your chest as he sits up sharply and you feel guilt at having awakened him.  It’s been years since the war and yet this continues to happen – why won’t the nightmare leave you alone?  Bellatrix did not die when her body did; she’d be happy to know the pain she inflicted continues to affect you so profusely.  And you, who believes in logic and reason and level-headedness, knows that it was all a dream (rather a nightmare).  But logic doesn’t stop the tears from falling.   Logic doesn’t make her breath or her grip or your fear any less real.

His eyes meet yours and that’s all he needs; he wraps his arms around your trembling frame.  His embrace is warm, comforting, and you find yourself allowing him to hold you like you do every time this happens.  “Shhhhh, Hermione,” he says and his voice is low, a whisper in the darkness.  “It’s okay.  She’s not here; I am.  She’s gone; she can’t hurt you anymore.”  As he runs his fingers soothingly through your hair, your shaking becomes less violent and you can form coherent sentences. 

“I know; I’m sorry Ron, It’s just that –”

“Hermione.”  He sighs your name into your hair and coming from him, it sounds like a blessing.  “Don’t apologize.  Never apologize.  What that bitch did to you –”  His voice is almost a growl now and he tightens his embrace.

You know you shouldn’t apologize.  There’s really nothing for you to feel guilty about; he’s told you this before.  “I hate that it still affects me,” you admit.  “I can feel her, hear her, and see her; she’s never truly gone.”  You’ve had the nightmares for years now, though they’ve lessened over time.  Every time you think you’re over them, they return in horrifying clarity.

“I hate that it affects you, too.  If I could’ve done something to stop it…” he trails off and you put a hand on his arm.  His eyes meet yours once more and a message is passed on:  _ not your fault _ .  “I know.  But Hermione, I don’t think anyone would be over that and you’re the strongest woman I know.  Don’t tell Ginny I said that,” he says after a short pause and you can feel the nightmare’s influence slowly fade away.  

“Every time I think they’re gone, she appears again,” you say.  “Every time, it’s like she wins and I’m helpless.”

“But you’re not.”

“I know.  Most of the time I’m not.”  But for those brief few minutes of the nightmare you are and during those brief few minutes, all that matters is what happens  _ now _ . 

“We can’t be in control all of the time,” he says.  “It’s not your fault.  You’re here and she isn’t, and we’re all damn lucky you’re so strong.”  Ron kisses your knuckles, and then his long fingers massage gentle circles into your back.  You tuck your face into his neck and breathe in the scent of his shampoo.  He’s here, you’re here, and Bellatrix Lestrange is dead.

You don’t get any sleep, and you suspect Ron doesn’t either, but in the stillness of early morning hours, you breathe together.  And it’s enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in ~2014, edited by me at 4AM.


End file.
